Chapter 4 - THE CONDITIONS AND THE CRUMBLE
The ninety-day clock was ticking.
Mr. Sterling kept me updated.
My parents were scrambling.
Desperate.
They tried to manufacture evidence.
My father produced a calendar with handwritten notes of visits.
But the handwriting was too neat.
Too recent.
The ink was still fresh on paper that had been sitting in a drawer for years.
A forensic document examiner would have no trouble proving it was fake.
My mother produced a series of emails.
Expressing concern.
Offering help.
But the timestamps were wrong.
The email addresses had been created two weeks prior.
And the hospice nurse confirmed that none of the offers had ever resulted in actual help.
Chloe didn't even try.
She was too busy shopping.
Too busy posting pictures of herself looking at luxury properties online.
Too busy telling everyone she knew that she was now a millionaire.
She posted a photo of herself test-driving a Ferrari.
Caption: "When life gives you lemons... buy a Ferrari instead. #blessed #newchapter"
The comments were full of congratulations.
And a few people asking what had happened to the sister who had cared for their grandfather.
Chloe deleted those comments.
Blocked those people.
But the internet never forgets.
Slowly, the story began to leak.
Not from me.
From other places.
A hospice nurse who was tired of the lies.
A neighbor who had seen me come and go every day for four years while my family never visited.
A mover who felt terrible about what had happened in the rain.
People started talking.
Online.
In the community.
At the country club where my parents liked to pretend they were important.
My parents' friends started asking questions.
Not out of concern for me.
Out of embarrassment.
Out of fear that associating with my parents might make them look bad.
The tide was turning.
And my family was starting to crack.
My father called again.
This time, he was angry.
Screaming.
"What did you do?" he shouted.
"What did you tell people?"
"I haven't told anyone anything, Dad. But maybe if you'd actually visited Grandpa while he was alive, people wouldn't be saying these things."
"You're ruining us! Our reputation! Everything we've built!"
"You ruined it yourselves. The day you decided Grandpa was nothing more than a bank account. The day you threw his granddaughter out in the rain. The day you laughed at four years of sacrifice."
He hung up on me.
A week later, Chloe showed up at the cabin.
She parked her new convertible at the end of the driveway.
Like she was afraid the dirt would scratch the paint.
She walked up to the porch.
High heels sinking into the mud.
Designer dress completely inappropriate for the woods.
She looked at me.
Looked at the cabin.
Made a face.
"So this is what you got," she said.
"A shack in the woods. How... quaint."
"It's home," I said.
"Home? Maya, this is a hovel. I wouldn't let my dog live here."
She sat down across from me.
Tried to cross her legs gracefully.
Almost fell.
"Look," she said.
"Mom and Dad are freaking out. These conditions in the will... they're impossible. And Mr. Sterling says that if they can't meet them, everything goes to you. All of it. The house. The trust. Everything."
"That's what the will says."
"You wouldn't really do that, would you? Take everything from your own family?"
"I wouldn't have to. You'd be taking it from yourselves. By not meeting the conditions. By not being there when it mattered."
She leaned forward.
Her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Look. Let's make a deal. If you just sign something saying you won't accept the secondary bequest, I'll give you a million dollars. Cash. No strings attached. You can keep this... charming little cabin. And you'll have a million dollars. That's more money than you could ever make in your entire life."
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
My little sister.
The girl I used to play with in the lake.
The girl I used to protect from bullies at school.
The girl who used to climb into my bed after having nightmares.
She was gone.
Replaced by this stranger.
Cold.
Calculating.
Greedy.
"A million dollars," I said.
"Out of $6.9 million. Plus the house. Plus everything else. That's very generous of you, Chloe."
"Don't be greedy. A million is a lot."
"And what about the four years I spent caring for Grandpa? What's that worth to you? A million? Half a million? Nothing?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please. Don't start with that again. You chose to stay there. No one forced you. You could have gotten a job. Moved out. Lived your own life. But you didn't. You chose to play nurse. And now you want to be rewarded for it."
I stood up.
"Get off my property, Chloe."
"Wait—"
"Now. Or I'm calling the police."
She stood up.
Angry now.
The mask slipping.
"You think you're better than me?" she said.
"You think because you wiped his dirty old body that you're some kind of saint? You're not. You're just a pathetic loser who couldn't make it in the real world so you latched onto a dying old man for his money."
The words stung.
But I didn't let her see it.
"At least I latched onto him," I said.
"You didn't even bother to show up."
She turned and walked away.
Stomping her feet in the mud.
Ruining her expensive shoes.
I watched her drive away.
The convertible speeding down the dirt road.
Gravel flying everywhere.
I sat back down.
My heart was pounding.
But I felt clean.
Like I had just washed away something dirty.
Mr. Sterling called that evening.
"I heard about Chloe's visit," he said.
"She tried to bribe you."
"She offered me a million dollars."
"And you said no."
"Of course I said no."
"Good. Because that million dollars would have come with strings. And it would have meant letting them get away with everything. Your grandfather would be proud of you."
I thought about Grandpa's letter.
About what he had written.
He had known.
He had known exactly what they would do.
Exactly what they would offer.
Exactly how low they would sink.
And he had prepared me.
"How much time do they have left?" I asked.
"Forty-two days," he said.
"And they're running out of options. Their lawyer has already told them they can't win. The conditions are clear. The evidence against them is overwhelming. They're grasping at straws."
"Then what happens?"
"Then, forty-two days from now, the bequests are formally forfeit. The house and the trust become part of the residuary estate. Which means they become yours. Along with everything else."
He paused.
"And then, Maya, you can decide what to do with it all. Sell the house. Keep it. Donate the money. Invest it. Whatever you want. It's yours. No conditions. No strings. Just yours."
I looked out at the lake.
The moon was rising.
Silver and bright.
Forty-two days.
Forty-two days until justice.
Forty-two days until Grandpa's plan was complete.
Forty-two days until my life changed forever.
I took a deep breath.
The pine air filling my lungs.
May you like
I could wait.
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